The Remnant of the Hunt
by KnighteyNighteyKnight
Summary: "Sometimes it's better to leave things undiscovered. Sometimes it's best to forget the past and move forward, never looking back. Sometimes it's a very good thing, that a secret remains a secret. The revelation of said secret could give insight to ourselves, but could invite a calamity from within."
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR NOTE**

 **Let's get to the credits first before I get sued.**

 **Bloodborne is a Action-Role Playing game developed by FromSoftware and published by Sony Computer Entertainment. I do not own the game, aside a copy of it and I love this game!**

 **RWBY is a American 3D Web Series, created by Monty Oum, bless his soul and may he rest in peace. He developed the series for Rooster Teeth, so nothing of it belongs to me.**

 **There are some OC's and own ideas within this story, all of them are mine in some regard.**

 **Without further due, enjoy the story!**

 **Episode 1**

 **A friend laid to rest**

* * *

- _Ting-a-ling-_

… _._

 _-Ting-a-ling-_

… _._

 _-Ting-a-ling-_

* * *

Slow footsteps echoed alongside the sound of the little chime in the hunter's hand, signalizing his path through the darkest corner of Yharnam's streets.

Unlike the bells strapped around the church giants, giant creations of the healing church used to assist the hunt, this bell had a very high and clear ring sounding through the streets. It wasn't loud or intimidating, but upon it's sound, all windows within his range dimmed down and the curtains quickly closed. The inhabitants of the city were accustomed to hunters stalking the nightmares at the hunt, but THIS one was different, far more different.

This hunter was the outsider. The detested outsider.

It wasn't just him. The town naturally despised the world outside their borders, cutting all ties with it and refused any form of interaction with it. Anything that originates from there was treated with the same manner, hunter or not.

But not only did they despised this outsider, but also feared him. The sight of him was truly menacing, whenever it's day or night, his hunter jacket stained scarlet by the countless hunts, the iron pads on his upper body decorated by slashes of his prey and the charred black long overcoat, giving him truly the appearance of a being of the night. One you didn't want to meet alone.

His face was hidden behind a high collar and a tricorn hat with a pair of large feathers hid almost everything around him, only his piercing eyes glancing beneath them.

Eyes of cold steel and perhaps something more vile inside than the beasts skulking the night.

Eyes which have seen horrors of which many men wish to forget. Horrors, which made even the strongest willed crumble and reduce them to a crying infant.

Oh, how much they hated him. How much they'd wanted to see him dead, body disemboweled and fed to the vile beasts in the streets. But nobody dared, all too knowing what happens when this beast was challenged. So they settled themselves by calling him names, avoiding him like the plague and hating, hating and even hating him more.

The outsider didn't care about the opinion of the citizen, as he knew his position as a hunter.

His task was to hunt within the shadows, there which nobody would stare for too long. The beasts within them were his prey.

And so he did.

Then he heard a faint sound in the distance, followed by a rather sweet smell, penetrating his nostrils within the collar and upon pulling it down, he took a deep whiff of the scent in the air.

It was the scent of prey nearby. Feeding on an unfortunate victim, being at the wrong place and wrong time, judging by the guttural sounds and the ripping of flesh.

The hunter placed his collar up again and creeped slowly to the source, his footsteps carefully placed. The trail led him down a dark side-alley, a typical place for predators to wait for unsuspecting prey to show up and then proceed to devour it in peace.

The sounds came closer, as did he, hands slowly moving towards his armament, a large, back serrated knife with a retractable blade, his fingers ready to pull the small lever attached at the guard.

As he turned around the corner, he came to a rather nauseous sight, something he's never accustomed to despite being in this line of work for some time.

The sight of human devouring another, especially one that was still flailing and trying to shake off the attacker, who's jaws were firmly planted into the side of his neck. The hunter mustered the man, tattered noble coat and a bottle of wine smashed on the ground. A drunk who forgot time and didn't go home when the warning bell tolled.

His mistake.

The victim, struggling for sheer survival, spotted the hunter and attempted to call out to him, but was brutally interrupted by his assailant, biting a chunk from his throat, causing the blood within to splatter throughout the air, springing forth like a fountain. His hand, still tried to reach out for the hunter, who remained still and just watched. A flicker of fury and despair light within the man, before his body fell limb and the flicker within the eye turned into darkness.

The assailant kept tearing through the flesh, drinking greedily the blood which gushed out and biting off big chunks of meat. Now the hunter took a better look upon the cannibal, recognizing a familiar wrap of cloth around the head and a set of tattered robes. And it was then, when the assailant turned towards the hunter, one eye revealed through the bandages around his blood-stained face.

"Good evening, Gilbert." The hunter said calmly, tilting his hat as a greeting, ignoring the corpse next to his acquaintance.

As if waking from a dream, Gilbert shook his head and stared in horror at the human he just killed. "N-no! This cannot be! It happened again…" he sobbed, covering his face in shame and dropping onto his knees, weeping at the loss of his humanity, all while in the presence of the hunter.

Gilbert Goldberg, one of the very few citizen who didn't treat the hunter with the same hatred as the other townsfolk. Being a former outsider himself, Gilbert came to this place years ago to cure his ailment, something which bought him time. Giving him hope a little longer.

'So much for that hope', the hunter said in his mind, allowing Gilbert let his feelings burst free. The hunter pitied him, seeing how the once coughing and kind man, who invited him to a cup of tea from time to time, became this carnivorous thing, preying on former, fellow humans. He was surprised and impressed of Gilbert's will to stay human within his mind, despite being have warped by the beasthood.

Well, that was the case as long his hunger didn't surface.

And now it happened again. Another life lost to the beastly scourge and the hunter weight his options.

He was a hunter and before him stood a potential beast.

But he was also an old friend, the only one who gave him a place to stay outside the hunts. Perhaps he could help him?

The hunter discarded the thought and gripped his blade tighter.

No, once one falls to the beastly embrace, there was no turning back. There was only the depth of how far one will descend into the inner beast.

Gilber hasn't changed much appearance wise, his nails grew and turned into curved claws, small sprouts of fur covered his body and his pupils were splattered, colored in a sickly gold. If one were to cover those, perhaps he…

Again, the hunter discarded the thought. No matter how much he'd hide, he could wrap him in a ball of cloth, the hunger which Gilbert felt couldn't be hidden. The hunter had to accept the facts which lied before him and he was about to do his duty as a hunter.

"…I came to this city long time ago, thinking this 'healing blood' would allow me to die human…" Gilbert said, tears still rolling down his warped face and looked at his transformed hands. They tightened themselves to fists and he turned towards the hunter, actually towards the weapon he held. Glancing at the weapon, the hunter recognized fear within the collapsed iris, the same fear which most of his prey held when they saw the blade. And when fear gripped a beast, they tend to lash out in self-defense, just to survive a little longer.

The hunter was ready for an assault, but what he didn't expect for Gilbert bowing his head and laid his arms before him, giving the hunter an exaggerated bow.

"…friend. Will you release me from this horror? I just cannot stand the thought of harming another fellow human. The voices in my head, memories which are not my own, they just don't stop. So please, free me from this living-!"

Gilbert couldn't finish his sentence, as the hunter disappeared in a cloud of smoke before reappearing right before him and slashed his short sword downward, splitting his old friend's head clean in half. Beastly blood sprayed from the body, splattering onto the hunters cloak and face.

Then the rest of the body just fell limb, slumping to the ground with a hollow thud. The hunter slashed his sword aside, clearing the blade of Gilbert's blood and then glanced at the new corpse before him.

Pain, not unbearable, but overwhelming pain flashed through his mind, as the dying thoughts of his friend sounded one more time.

 _The massive gate of Yharnam, after a long-time travel, hoping to find a cure for "his" incurable illness, alongside the fellow wanderer "he" met on the way._

 _"_ _His" initiation into the ranks of a Healing Church hunter, the fellow wanderer congratulating "him" with an extra-large tankard of ale. Oh, how drunk they wandered the roads, both bumping into several street lanterns before stopping at "his" house and parting ways._

 _A city in flames, screams echoing through the air, as "he" strengthened the flames "his" flame sprayer, before the gaping maws of a beast hurled itself out of the flames and buried it's venomous fangs into "his" shoulders, only for them to be broken off by the fellow wanderer, extending his hand towards "him" and pulling "him up to his feet" to continue the purge._

 _Coughing blood into "his" hand, as the Ashen blood takes it toll on "his" body, the fellow wanderer giving "him" antidotes to ease the pain. The fellow wanderer kept visiting "him", but the visits became less and more seldom._

 _A hunger plaguing "him", the hunger for the life essence within all living beings. It kept calling to "him", tempting with the sweet smell of it._

 _And then the sight of the fellow wanderer standing before "him", greeting calmly while "he" was ending the life of a human._

 _Then finally, the fellow wanderer delivered his blade towards "his" head, slicing it clean in half. Ending the torment "he" suffered for so long. Darkness quickly settled, coating "him" in a dark blanket, but two words escaped "his" dying breath._

 _"_ _Thank you."_

And that was when the images ended, so did the life of Gilbert Goldberg.

As the flood of images faded into the depths of his mind, the hunter stumbled backwards, his back hit the wall.

It was just the usual, new memories flooding into him after his slain victims, usually they are just simple thoughts, thinking pattern of an average animal, he paid them no mind.

Human memories however, that was an entire different cup of tea.

Their entire life flashes through their mind at the moment of their death, from starting to walk as a toddler to the very few moments before their deaths.

The hunter never got used to them, no matter how many times he obtains the echo of the fallen.

He felt something wet running down his cheek, perhaps a droplet of the blood must have splashed onto his face. His sight turned blurry and he feared that he was infected with the beastly blood.

But when he brushed his glove at his face, he found pure droplets of water instead and then he realized that he was crying.

Of course he'd be crying, after all, he just killed his best friend. They didn't stop dropping and he had to wipe several times to make them stop.

He just didn't feel the sadness or remorse of doing the deed. The tears just kept coming, showing his human side was still within. Yet his mind was steeled and adapted to the hunt, losses were common. Having a friend dying was a horrible thought, but one's duty as a hunter came first.

To hunt and slay the beast before it could get away. As long one hunter kills the beast, then every sacrifice is worth the prey.

The hunter almost became the next prey, as the large scourge beast lunged itself forward, teeth greedily aiming to sink themselves into his flesh. But his teeth met with smoke, as the hunter pushed himself forward, disappearing and leaving only a trail of smoke behind.

A silent curse slipped through his lips, as the hunter realized the scent of the two corpses must have lured it straight toward him. In this tight alley, fighting a scourge beast was nearly suicidal and the best choice of action would be to retreat into an open space.

His eyes briefly blinked at the body of Gilbert and he cursed himself again.

For being sentimental for someone he just killed.

"A hunter must hunt, just like you said. Ey, 'leen?" he muttered to himself.

The index finger moved toward the lever of his blade and upon pulling it, the once short blade extended into a spear-length sword. The scourge beast's eyes focused on the hunter and charged forward.

And the hunter did the same, sprinting forward, dragging the sword after him and readied himself for the impact of the beast.

The two collided, teeth sunk into flesh and steel drove itself through not only flesh, but bones, vital organs and exited from the beast's fur. And with an outward pull, the blade gruesomely cut its way out, covered in beast blood.

The scourge beast howled in agony and tried to pull away, realizing that this prey could kill it.

But the beast couldn't pull away, his head was locked in a iron grip of the hunter, teeth still embedded into the shoulder of the hunter.

By pulling the lever on his sword, the blade retracted into its smaller form and was placed at the belly of the beast. The hunter pulled the trigger again, allowing the sword to extend to it's full length, piercing right through the beast again.

And the hunter pulled the lever again. This time aiming for the leg.

And again.

This time through the throat. Fingers tightened around the lever.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Drenched in the foul blood, the hunter released the mutilated corpse and let it drop like a bag of potatoes. He glanced at his left shoulder, the cloth and armor was easily pierced and blood kept flowing from it. It would be rather dangerous to hunt with this wound, so he had to tend to it quickly.

His right hand reached for his belt, opening a pouch and pulled out a vial with a needle on its end. The content of the vial was a sickish red fluid, it's sight brought fear and relief at the same time to the hunter. Flipping it around, he drove the needle into his thigh, letting the content of the vial flood his system.

The pain in his shoulder subsided, as he felt how the flesh started to stich itself back together, nerve tissues reconnecting again and the by beast fang pierced clavicle, scapula and glenoid quickly regenerated within a blink of an eye. Then he tossed the vial aside, needing it no longer.

The hunter then gazed upon the corpse of Gilbert or what was left of him. Seeing how the blood had easily attracted a scourge beast, it was only a matter of time until new beasts would come to feast on this corpse. And that would have been a disgraceful way of treating the dead, the hunter thought.

Reaching for another pouch in his belt, he pulled out a urn made of clay, it's lid closed tightly until he popped it with a flick of his thumb, pouring it's black and sticky oil over Gilbert, it's stench filled the air, almost overpowering the aroma of blood. He then pulled a square shaped object from his pocket, flipping it open and ignited the flint stone, creating a small flame in his hand. The sight of the fire lighter gave the hunter memories of old, of a time before the hunts.

Before he ascended and degenerated at the same time.

Kneeling down, the hunter applied the flame to the oil and it's destructive warmth embraced Gilbert, illuminating the alley in a bright orange, the stench of burnt flesh quickly seeped through the air and stung into his nose.

The sight of the fire brought some comfort to the hunter, as it's heat warmed his body and offered temporally a sanctuary against any form of beasts. They feared the flame, more than anything else, not even their thirst for blood could get them anywhere near it's deadly touch. Next to the incense, the fire was the best thing to ward off the beasts, becoming a shield of the horrors of the night.

And it allowed the hunter to give a proper burial to his friend. One far better than the one's he gave in the past.

The bell tolled heavily, signalizing midnight and the moon laid high in the sky. Howls filled the night, accompanied by screams and gun shots and the hunter had to move. His duty as a hunter required his presence and his blade.

Turning one more time to the charred body of Gilbert, he gave a small bow and walked away.

"Please rest. I'll join you eventually, old friend. And dear Oum, please give him the rest he deserves." offering a small prayer, using the name of the one god outside this cursed place, the hunter then did what he did best.

He hunted.

Taking out his small bell from his pocket, he rung it several times while walking down the road. Perhaps some hunter would need his assistance, maybe not in this world.

After all, the night was just beginning and his blade thirsted for beast blood.

* * *

 _-Ting-a-ling-_

… _._

 _-Ting-a-ling-_

* * *

 **Author Note:**

 **Hello dear reader, thank you for stopping by and reading this project of mine.**

 **I'm a huge fan of the RWBY and Bloodborne franchise, so I decided to give it a go and write this.**

 **I must warn you, I write at the pace of a dying slug, so if you have the patience, I would be delighted to see you in the next chapter.**

 **Kind regards**

 **Your author**

 **KnighteyNighteyKnight**


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR NOTE**

 **Let's get to the credits first before I get sued.**

 **Bloodborne is a Action-Role Playing game developed by FromSoftware and published by Sony Computer Entertainment. I do not own the game, aside a copy of it and I love this game!**

 **RWBY is a American 3D Web Series, created by Monty Oum, bless his soul and may he rest in peace. He developed the series for Rooster Teeth, so nothing of it belongs to me.**

 **There are some OC's and own ideas within this story, all of them are mine in some regard.**

 **Without further due, enjoy the story!**

 **(I apologize for the copy/paste intro, but you can't be too sure nowadays. Also, setting the writing style differently.)**

* * *

 **Episode 2 - The inert city**

* * *

"Looks creepy as hell from here, I can't really imagine anyone wandering into those creepy ruins willingly." Elec commented with a shudder, a young man with cyan hair, donning a blue military uniform of Atlesian origin, glancing through a binocular, before passing them to another team mate.

"And yet many people have gone missing within it's borders. Also, according to some rumors, the Grimm avoid entering this abandoned place, unlike other settlements which are filled with them. " Titaia, a red haired woman with a light-brown uniform akin to a Greek linothorax, replied upon the comment before taking a peek herself. "Looks like one of those ghost ruins in Vale, Fort Glenn, but here I cannot even see the slightest sign of life.

"This is also confirmed by some huntsmen who were hunted by larger groups of Death Stalkers and Nevermore, upon entering the ruins, the monsters suddenly froze up and just ran into the opposite direction. Normally they'd swarm the place with endless determination and inhabit the place forever, but this place is still standing empty." Tawny, a faunus with the attributes of an antelope, wearing a rather simple hunter jacket.

"Jeez, why not write a whole journal about it. We are not here to talk, we are here to find the missing huntsmen. Now, Team JETT, let's get moving!" Jasper ordered and the others followed suit. The leader, a young man with undercut red hair in fashionable garments, golden armor plates covering his body, commanded, making his way towards the misty city. The rest of the group quickly followed suit, eyes still resting on the eerie landscape before them.

These rather young huntsmen and huntresses were no other than Team JETT, a team which just recently graduated from Haven Academy. Like many students who spent three years together sharing a room, their meals and battles, these young folks became close friends, nearly inseparable, their bond being a the very role model of the huntsmen of today.

That bond was tested in this mission.

Recently, there has been cases of several huntsmen going missing, their communication devices tracing their last whereabouts around the far north part of Mistral, an area surrounded by such thick mists, only the most brave(or foolish) dared to venture and tell their tale. Not only do rather ominous sorts of Grimm, undiscovered by todays society roam these parts or the mist nearly preventing any form of long-range communication, but the existence of the ruins of an old and forgotten city made this part of Mistral a no-man's land.

The bullhead, a VOTL(Vertical Take-off/Landing) tiltjet aircraft, dropped Team JETT a few miles before the ruins, at the beginning of a rather thick forest. It was a rather dense forest, surrounding the ruins and just near the ocean, facing towards the continent of Atlas in the further north of Remnant.

And it was here that Team JETT was tasked to find the missing people.

"Seriously, who ever had the bright idea to build this city in these parts was a lunatic. I mean come on, this mist is so thick you could strangle someone in it!" Elec said, brushing his hand through the mist, which remained unmoving.

"Strangle someone with it? Your talent to compare something is rather frighteningly stupid. I thought you looked up at some dictionary to improve your vocabulary, but that thought was thrown out the window as usual." Tawny remarked with a snicker, earning a rather childish response of the blue hair.

The two didn't go very along, as Elec's temper and Tawny's snarky remarks kept sparking up some fight between them. Almost the same way as a pair of siblings would. And it fell usually to their demanding leader to put them into their place. "Would you two stop bickering like an old married couple? It is rather annoying." Was one of many comments of Jasper, which resulted the two in question to unite and spout remarks about Jasper, making him the next target. Earlier it would have infuriated the leader, but now it was just routine, trading insults back and forth, all the while Titaia watched with great amusement.

Titaia was the more lone type at first, but after meeting the rest of Team JETT, she gradually opened up to them and became more of a team player. And for that she was eternally grateful for them.

She glanced towards the ruins and Elec's words still held truth in them, the gothic looking towers of the place reminded her of some classic horror movie, something she wasn't into at all. Nope, rather some nice fairy tale with a happy ending, those were more her forte. Like the tale of the four maidens, yes, those were much better than this creepy place. And while her team mates kept firing insult at one another, she took the liberty to inspect the towers of the city with the binocular.

The mist made it hard to see properly, but she was able to see parts of the city quite well. For one, the city seemed to be layered into two parts, a lower part being at the foot of the hill, with a rather well kept clock tower standing out. The other part seemed to have no access, but was placed higher up the hill, covering the entire place with its Victorian gothic buildings. The reports about this city were true, completely devoid of life, absolutely nothing was within the city.

Zooming in with the advanced binocular, she glanced around, until she noticed something odd.

"Hey guys? The reports mentioned that the ruins were empty, but were they actually inside the city?" Tiata asked out, interrupting the trio's quarrel (more like Jasper keeping the other two in a rather tight headlock, one in each arm).

"Well, the reports and photos were made from airships, after long-time observation over several weeks, they deduced that the city was completely empty. Why do you ask?" Jasper replied, releasing the others from his hold.

"See for yourself." She replied and gave him the binoculars, pointing at the top layer of the ruins. Jasper zoomed in, looking at the direction of which Titaia was pointing.

Several trails of black smoke rose from the city, something which wasn't mentioned in any of the reports. They were at various places, the smoke disappearing in the misty sky, devoid of any wind.

"Perhaps it's a signal fire, by those who went missing. We could call the Bullship back and check it out." Elec suggested, holding his neck which was nearly broken in two by the leaders inhumane strength.

"Not possible. This is as far as the ships can go." Jasper replied and continued before the blue hair could fire another question. "The instruments of any aircraft seem to malfunction, causing it to crash the closer it approaches the city. Like exiting the atmosphere of our world, dust of any kind loses it's power when it enters it's reach. This is the reason why we were dropped here, at the frontier of this place. Meaning we are going in there by foot."

The rest of the team had a mix of reactions towards the decision of the leader: Tawny was rather intrigued and excited to discover new things, while Elec just slumped, the thought of walking through the forest and all through the ruins to the top layer just was tiring.

Titaia's entire body covered itself in goosebumps, the mere thought of setting foot in that haunted place gave her the creeps. Like mentioned, she absolutely hated places which looked haunting and if possible, she'd avoid them. That was until a reassuring hand was placed on her shoulder, Jasper's grip tightening not to the point of discomfort but rather nice feeling.

"Don't worry. As long as we stick together, we'll be fine. We go in, investigate the sites and when we find the missing people, we head back tomorrow back, just before lunch. I'll treat you." He said assuring, causing heat to rise in Titaia's face.

"Us hopefully too, you damn play-boy" Elec barged in, glancing back and forth between the two red heads. And opposite from him, Tawny joined in, smirking at the romance building between the two. "You can both go on a date after this mission, after all, we just graduated and have no need for lessons anymore!"

Jasper stepped back, remaining cool as always, but a small shade of red surfaced on his cheek. Tawny kept snickering at the leaders attempt to hide the feelings for the red-head, but Titaia's face also lit up, not matching the color of her hair, but closely.

"Enough talking, we have a mission to fulfill! Let's get moving Team JETT!" Jasper barked loudly, setting on a mic on his ear and waited for the rest of the team doing the same. As everyone was finally ready, they quickly checked the function of their earset microphone.

"Communication check: Jasper Shahbaz, online." The leader spoke into his mic, confirming.

"Elec Eisen, online and ready for mission." the blue haired confirmed.

"Tawny Bovidae, online." the faunus confirmed.

"Titaia Nikos, online." the red-hair confirmed.

"Alright, here is the plan: We pass through the forest, enter the ruins and make our way towards those fire places. From there on, we'll begin our search for the missing huntsmen. We should arrive the ruins at around dusk, latest. Stick close and we'll be back home by tomorrow!" Jasper explained and then they moved out.

 **Meanwhile, within the borders of Yharnam...**

After dragging another body to the pile, the hunter poured more oil over the lifeless forms of humans, beasts and those in between, coating them thoroughly before setting them ablaze, the fire eagerly eating away at the flesh, fur and bones of the dead. Soon, a very horrid smell filled the air, stinging his nose and the sour taste of his stomach filled his mouth.

No matter how many times he did this, the burning of bodies was a nauseous sight and he didn't enjoy it one bit, but his duty as hunter demanded a job well done.

Hunting the afflicted. Give them peace by force. Burn the remains so they cannot strengthen other beings or spread the illness outside the walls of Yharnam. A common practice since old times, yet still effective when dealing with plagues. This cycle repeated itself over and over, the hunter must have piled up more bodies than the original population of the city.

It was futile however, despite how many bodies where burned. Hell, even if he'd repeat the same incident as with Old Yharnam, it wouldn't make a difference.

The night of the hunt would repeat itself again, no matter what. And tonight was no different, the few hours of respite during the day weren't nearly enough to replenish his strength, physically and mentally. But his duty as a hunter demanded his service, regardless of his condition or position.

A hunter must hunt. Beasts in form and in name alike.

No exceptions. Even if it meant to die in the process, that was the iron rule and those who don't abide by it were not fit to be called hunters.

He glanced at the sun, this magnificent body of light, the thing being the most desired thing of the hunter, it's rays always signalizing the end of the current hunt. The hunter enjoyed the sun, it's light giving him a very warm feeling within his body, reminding him that he still remained human. Or what was left of him.

It slowly descended to the brinks of the world and allow darkness to settle. Allowing the cracked moon to be the guiding light in this place. The light which revealed the nature of this place.

Offering a simple bow towards the bodies, either a sign of respect or apology, the hunter turned around and made his way back to the shadows of the city. Ready to stalk the beasts which would rise in the absence of the sun and wander under the gaze of the lunar body, appearing cracked from outside, but that'll soon change. Here in Yharnam at least.

"There is still some time though for one toast before the night begins." He murmured to himself, making his way towards Oedon Chapel, knowing of a very fine beverage he salvaged some time ago.

It dulls the senses, but drowns the guilt.

 **AUTHOR NOTES**

 **In my gallery on deviantart, I have visual of the team, so if you'd like to have look, go on ahead and check it out if you want :D**

 **/019rv0jz1kzt**

 **JETT is derived from Jet Black, the name origin of each character is below.**

 **Jasper Shahbaz**

Originally thought to be a Persian name, meaning Treasurer, the name Jasper comes from an aggregate of microgranular quartz and/or chalcedony and other mineral phases,is an opaque, impure variety of silica, usually red. Shahbaz was the name of a fabled bird mentioned in Persia, literally meaning _royal falcon._

 **Elec Eisen**

The name alludes to Electric Blue, a shade of blue close to cyan, described as the color of lightning, an electric spark. Eisen is the german translation of Iron.

 **Titaia Nikos**

Greek name, said to be cognate with Sanskrit _tithá_ , "fire," from Aryan _tith_ , "to burn." In mythology, this is the name of the mother of the Titans who were named after her; therefore possibly another name for Gaia (Earth). So basically it's another shade of red. As for Nikos, it means " _victor of the people_ ", originating from the Greek Goddess Nike.

 **Tawny Anthos**

A light-brown to brownish color. The best example is the Tawny owl, who has that same color. Anthos is greek word meaning _flower,_ ops meaning _eye_ , alluding to the Antelopes long eye lashes, the same animal this faunus was based on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Bloodborne is a Action-Role Playing game developed by FromSoftware and published by Sony Computer Entertainment. I do not own the game, aside a copy of it and I love this game!**

 **RWBY is a American 3D Web Series, created by Monty Oum, bless his soul and may he rest in peace. He developed the series for Rooster Teeth, so nothing of it belongs to me.**

 **There are some OC's and own ideas within this story, all of them are mine in some regard.**

 **Without further due, enjoy the story!**

 **Chapter 3**

 **New prey**

The Yharnamite knew something was off, waving his torch back and forth, attempting to shoo away the darkness around him and somehow signalize the others his location. But the only thing which replied to him was the noises of the Forbidden Wood, the branches of the trees creaking to the non-existent wind and the breathing of his hound next to him.

Afflicted or not, the Yharnamite still had a (rather small amount) common sense and realized that his group of fellow Yharnamites was gone, leaving only him along his dog. He didn't pay attention, as he was at the front and guided the group, trying to hunt down the beasts which roam this forest. It was just moment's ago that one of the dogs barked wildly and ran towards behind a tree, his owner following him. He hadn't returned and neither did the dog. So the lead Yharnamite went the same way, but only found nothing, except the rustle of leaves which he followed with his group. Only the noises seemed to appear around them, each time another one ran towards it, only to have vanished. This game repeated itself until he and his hound were all that was left.

His grip on his rifle tightened and he squinted his eyes to see clearer, but the miniscule of sunlight piercing through the thick treetops offered little view in this eerie place. Fear started to build within the afflicted mind and his pet shared the same sentimental, whining and tail between it's legs.

Something was watching them. Something which took their fellows and lured them deeper into the forest, close to the borders. The Yharmanite looked around, unable to find the path back.

Branches in the bushes around them snapped. Behind them.

The Yharnamite turned, aiming his rifle at the bush. Then it snapped at his right.

Then at his left.

Branches snapped around them. Whatever was around the villager and his dog, it was just next to them and was toying with them. They were easy prey and the predator took it's sweet time to give them the hopelessness and fear it inflicted upon them.

The dog senses something as it yelped in sheer terror and dashed away from his owner, into the bushes, just to escape the threat. A howl of pain followed by a gruesome crack unlike the snapping of branches, but more that of bones crushed under a rock. Readying his rifle, the villager took aim and fired into the direction in which he heard the scream.

Silence fell and the villager tried to reload his rifle, but suddenly something big hurled its way through the bushes and impacted into the villager with the force of a avalanche, shattering every single bone within his body and splattered at the side of a tree, nearly causing the tree to collapse, but the roots held it in place. Barely.

A pair of gleaming red eyes glanced at the remains, snorting annoyed about the gruesome mess they created and how hard it would be to lick of the remains. They turned to the mutilated dog, barely alive and unable to move a single limb, even to howl. The owner of the pair of eyes settled with this little prey and wanted to feast, until it suddenly heard something.

"Come on, I think it came from here!" a voice shouted, it assumed it to be a male, as the tone was demanding and strong. It heard another set of voices, approaching it's location and it dropped the dog with a silent yet annoyed grunt. But it had to be careful, unlike the mad ramblings of the afflicted, these voices were with reason and that was danger enough for it.

Reason meant knowing how to fight. Not just upon instinct, but also by experience and that reminded it of the other monsters, those lurking within the walls of the city above. Those monsters which were more dangerous and more vile than any beast it encountered in it's life, especially when they wield their peculiar weapons.

It was reminded of the monster within the walls, the one who chased it out of it's safe house. The scars the monster dealt towards it healed, but they stung just at the thought.

Oh, how much it hated that monster. The monster with the grey eyes.

But the grey-eyed was within the walls and now it focused on the new arrivals, sniffing quietly. And it could tell, these ones were far different.

Pure.

Untouched by the blood.

The mere thought wet it's appetite, sinking it's fangs into something different than the usual prey night by night. Oh, just the thought made it long for the moment of feasting, tasting once un-corrupted blood than the same, rotten and bland flavor of the old blood. Yes, this new blood would be very tasty.  
But there were four of them, judging by their voices, it had to wait. Wait for them to make a mistake or let their guard down.

It hated waiting. But it would make the taste the better.

So it watched them for now.

Waiting for food while you are hungry was a dreadful thing and so did the thing feel the same.

But patience was a virtue as they say and so it slowly stalked them.

Waiting.

Knowing they cannot escape it's sight any more.

Or the grasp of this doomed city, this cradle of nightmares.

It gave a sound, similar to a sigh.

It wished that it wouldn't hear that infernal crying within the city. The cry of this "newborn".

 **AUTHOR NOTES**

 **A redo of my chapter**

 **I write slow. Process takes time. But I still write.**

 **Slowly.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Bloodborne is a Action-Role Playing game developed by FromSoftware and published by Sony Computer Entertainment. I do not own the game, aside a copy of it and I love this game!**

 **RWBY is a American 3D Web Series, created by Monty Oum, bless his soul and may he rest in peace. He developed the series for Rooster Teeth, so nothing of it belongs to me.**

 **There are some OC's and own ideas within this story, all of them are mine in some regard.**

 **Without further due, enjoy the story!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

* * *

 **Friend or Foe?**

Sliding down was easier and all the more fun, as the hunter descended the long ladder, feeling his glove starting to heat up from the friction, until his boots touched the ground, soaked in a small layer of water, dirt and, well, the innards of corpses. Some died from the height of the ladder, while others were too eager to enter the sanctuary which he called his home. Thankfully, the incense left by the…previous owner, keeps them away from, but the hunter too felt the nauseating effects befalling him, same effects which would apply to the beasts he stalked. The mere smell of it caused him to retch, the fear of emptying his stomach once more and then filling him with a ravenous hunger.

Another sign.

How long would it take, he thought, as he walked through the gates and entered the Tomb of Oedon, the monument shining in the flickers of the moonlight, surrounded by a forest of smaller tomb stones, scattered across the plaza. The other entrance was open wide, inviting all kinds of beasts, desperate to dig up the graves and feast on the bodies below the dirt. But the hunter foresaw that, so he dug the graves up first and burned whatever remains were left. It was a feat which lasted two days and nights, the latter being filled with hungry beasts, adding more bodies to his pile. It wasn't only beasts though.

Some dubious shades, who tried to extract the bodies for research, definetly former church hunters, still seeking "ascendance" by cutting up the bodies of those below. He didn't understand the logic and neither did he care.

The hunter made them descend into death, if they were too eager. The crude irony made him chuckle several times.

After said feat was done, he layered the entire place with vicious replacements, empty coffins with shrapnel bombs, detonate when the lid was removed or destroyed. It was a hassle to replace them and burning the remains to ensure no beasts in the daylight approached the blood.

The hunter descended down the stairs, his eyes glancing through the crude forest of stone, until they halted before a pair of makeshift graves. The sight of them always caused him to grip his chest, as if he was bludgeoned by a church giant and he'd prefer that over the feeling he felt.

A hunters axe, along with a scarf around the blade, which was suited by a black hat, edges faded to the corruption of blood and the interior was open, as if something popped from the inside. Next to the hunting tool was a old-fashioned flintlock gun, embedded like the axe into the ground, but with a golden pendant devoid of a familiar gemstone within hanging from the holster.

Both weapons had one ring cup of iron before them, the left one tipped over, something which the hunter corrected with gentleness.

In his hand was a bottle of fine whiskey, untouched by the air and blood. When he popped the cork, he poured some into the cups before him, before pulling out his own from his pocket and filling it with the life bringing elixir.

"To your health, fortune and peace in the other world. Cheers, Gascoigne and Viola" the hunter said and placed the cup to his lips, but halted, his free hand reaching for his gun in his jacket.

Footsteps.

Evenly ones, not like those of the frenzied horde or weight of the beast. But those of one who was sane. He hoped.

The hunter turned slowly, fingers around the revolver and the trigger, ready to intercept the next assault. If it was a blood addled hunter, then he was ready, but he wished not to fight upon the graves of friends. But he would've if he had to.

Trigger held, the hammer held with the thumb and his body ready to strike, his aim for the next vitals he saw. The hunter was slightly annoyed, nay, furious, to be disturbed and would set an example for the rest if he was disturbed by his toast.

His human mind hoped it was a sane one, one he could reason with and just simply shoo away. But his deranged, primal side hoped for a confrontation, to be splattered in claret and end the life of another, while devouring their life essence and add it to is own.

Another sign that he was approaching the embrace.

His eyes landed on a very familiar sight, one he hasn't seen in a long time, but his grip didn't lessen, but tightened instead.

As he saw the figure of Henryk, his unique garb of yellow shining past the blood and the Saw Cleaver addled with warm blood, dripping onto the ground.

"Good evening, Siliath. Has been some time." The old hunter said behind his collar, eyes filled with fire and entered the graveyard. The hunter kept his gun trained upon the visitor.

Despite being on familiar terms and first name base, he wasn't certain of Henryk's intention.

Was he here to fight? The blood on his weapon might have been due to self-defense, stray beasts lurk within the tiniest gaps of the city and await a unsuspecting prey to walk their way. If so, they were most unfortunate to have met Henryk.

Or did Henryk fall to the same bestial frenzy that cursed many hunters? Was he the next prey?

Henryk took another step towards him.

_

 **AUTHOR NOTES**

 **A redo of my chapter(s)**

 **I write slow. Process takes time. But I still write.**

 **Slowly.**

 **I'm not dead. Yet.**


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